Drives you mad
by VervainAndRoses
Summary: Or the one where every woman at court is vying for the attention of the King, and it makes his wife livid.


I watch her speak with my husband from afar. The girl bats her eyelashes in a exaggerated manner, and arch her back to make the most out of her rather low neckline. Her lack of shame makes my blood boil. Francis barely seems uncomfortable, but then again he's been dealing with inappropriate courtiers all his life. And there was a time not so long ago where I assume he wouldn't have ignored her like he does now. I shake my head to rid it of the thoughts that want to start forming, swirling around my head like storm clouds and souring my mood. We're married, he loves me; but fear wants to take hold of me. When I see her run her hand up his arm even as he steps away from her, her laugh so shrill and loud half the room turns to look at them, I decide her attempt to seduce my husband has been going on for long enough. I stand up as straight as I can and walk towards them, a practiced smile on my face. Francis notices me before I am next to them, and the way he completely ignores her as soon as I'm in his sight almost makes me feel bad for the girl. Almost.

"Francis! I've been looking for you." I tell him, my tone of voice making him raise an eyebrow faintly. Like she's merely an afterthought, I direct my attention towards the girl then, and watch her withdraw her hand from Francis' arm inconspicuously. "Oh. I'm sorry, I don't believe I know you."

Francis speaks before any words can leave her mouth, that's gaping open. She obviously thought I wouldn't interrupt them, but my marriage isn't like whatever royal union she' accustomed to. It means the world to me.

"Mary, this is Lady Irene, she arrived last week." Francis tells me, introducing us, and she drops into a deep curtsy.

"Your grace." She mutters, staring at the floor, and I watch color rise to her cheeks. Good, at least she knows what she's doing is wrong. It's funny how that knowledge of their actions can escape people at court so often. I don't usually like people bowing to me, but I don't stop her for a quite a few seconds, earning me another eyebrow raise from Francis. He knows this isn't like me. Finally I nod to her and she stands up straight.

"Lady Irene, I'm pleased to meet you. I must say I don't remember your arrival to court though." I would have remembered if I'd seen her make eyes at my husband at he sat beside me in the throne room.

"I arrived on Monday, your grace. My family and I were announced and met with the King," she smiles towards Francis and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "We were told you were…_unwell_." She says the last words with a distinctive malice. Is she still going to play?

"I see. Well, welcome to French court." I clasp my hands, a pleasant smile on my face. "I hope you have a lovely time during your visit." I mark the last word clearly. "I see _my husband_ has been entertaining you, but I think it's time we go have dinner. Francis?" I look up at him, and he miles at me, amused.

"Of course, my queen." He tells me, a smile turning at his lips. "Lady Irene, if you'll excuse me." He nods toward the girl, who drops into a curtsy, her back straight and head held high and smiling at him. I turn away from her without a second look, my hand nestling in the crook of Francis' elbow as we walk in direction of the main hall.

"Thank you, that girl was stuck to me like honey." He tells me, once we're away from her ears.

"More like you're the honey and they are all flies." I say with disdain. It seems to me like half the women at court want him for themselves, and the other half do too but they are married already.

"So you'll spend your time batting them away?" He asks me in good fun, but then notes my frown. "Don't be angry, it's not good for you."

"I'm not angry."

"Then why are you looking at everyone like that?" He asks me, his voice earnest, wanting to -as always- share my burdens with me.

"Like what?"

"Like you might make them burst into flames with just your eyes." He tells me, half joking and half serious, and I force my face to relax. I give in and share the source of my annoyance with him, hoping he doesn't take me wrong. Because I trust him, I do; it's everyone else I don't trust.

"That girl has been vying for your attention since she got here, and I know she strives to become your mistress, especially now that I must soon retire to-"

"I am aware of that." He stops my nervous talk. "I'm also aware that her hopes are pointless. As you well stated before," his mouth turns up at my little ownership display earlier, "I am _your_ husband. And that girl, her family has been pushing her unmercifully towards me in the hopes of gaining the King's favor. You must know she has no say in the matter."

"She didn't seem disinclined to me." I tell him, noting how bitter my own voice sounds. "And you heard what she said about me being "unwell", she was trying to rile me up."

"Don't let it work. I won't talk to her again, I'll try to finish negotiations with her father soon so she'll leave, all right? I was just trying not to be rude earlier, I realize now she doesn't deserve that consideration. Mary…" he holds my hand in his, an almost hurt expression in his eyes at my clear distress. I hate feeling this way, I don't want to quarrel with him over nothing, but my mood has been everywhere lately.

"Come." He tells me, taking me to a corner where we are half-hidden from everyone in the room. We escape like this often during the day, away from the eyes of court, alone if only for a minute.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to take it out on you. I know it isn't your fault. Court just seems like a pit full of snakes lately." I can't help but complain, my distaste clear in my words and countenance. Francis looks tenderly at me, his fingers caressing my cheek with a gentleness that slowly evaporates my bad mood.

"It'll be all right. Those women, they mean nothing to me. It's such a pity they can't realize it fast enough for our liking." He presses a kiss to my cheek. "Don't worry. In fact, you are forbidden to worry." He tells me, jesting, using the same great tone with which he speaks to everyone as he announces laws.

"Is that so?" I ask him playfully.

"Yes." He tells me. "You are forbidden of being anything but perfectly content, especially now. All right?"

I can't help but smile, the look in his eyes clearing the last traces of my sour mood like the sun. My smile fades suddenly though, once I feel something .

"Oh."

"Mary, what is it?" He asks me, somewhat alarmed, but I shake my head.

"Feel." I tell him, taking his hand and pressing it to the side of my swollen belly. I watch his eyes go wide with realization, and then a bright smile lights up his face.

"It seems our child agrees with me." He tells me, rubbing the place where our baby has moved within me, the distinct bump in my stomach receding. His hand nudges my chin upward slightly, making me look at him.

"I love you." He tells me, once more being the only one I feel I can trust completely. "I will never look at any woman they way I look at you."

"I know that." I tell him, not wanting him to feel like he owes me an explanation. He has done nothing wrong. Everyone vies for the attention of the king. Every woman specially wants to go up through the ranks of society by becoming his mistress. But it all has nothing to do with him. He's made it clear that he's committed to me, that he loves me. But I can't help but feel annoyed, and slightly insecure lately, when I hear the gossip of the servants on who will share his bed since I can't anymore. Or the whispers of the two-faced courtiers, that smile to my face but behind my back gamble on how long it will take Francis to do as he pleases and welcome a mistress in his bed, once he doesn't have me watching over him. It's not true at all but I can't help that it gets to me sometimes. Specially when I no longer feel aglow and energetic with early maternity, but exhausted, as my belly grows larger and I can spend less and less time on my feet, no longer find the strength to attend festivities and worry about the birth gnaws at me day and night. But I don't want my insecurities to weight on Francis, not when he rubs my sore feet after a long day, and wakes in the middle of the night whenever I do, to fetch me more pillows or bring me water. I take his hand in mine. "I know that, Francis."

"I know you do, but it's been a while since I told you. " He leans down to me, his curls tickling my forehead, his warm breath on my ear. "I love you, so much. You and our baby are everything to me." He kisses me gently, his lips feather light against my own, and my worries fade away. His hand rests on my waist, his thumb rubbing circles on my belly, and it all makes emotion knot in my throat. He pulls back. A tear spills down my cheek without my meaning to, and he wipes it with a brush of his fingers.

"No tears. All right?"

I nod, a watery laugh escaping my lips. He grabs my chin, and pulling me closer presses a kiss to my forehead.

"Shall we go to dinner now?" He nods his head towards the room, outside our little nook. Honestly I don't wish to go; I'd much prefer to stay with him alone. But he offers me his hand, and I take it without thinking twice.


End file.
